I brace myself, unsure why my heart rate has picked up, but it’s not Marlowe who answers. Instead, a perky woman with an American accent says, ‘Ms Winters’ phone! How may I help you?’

Who the actual fuck is this? ‘Um. I need to speak to Marlowe.’

‘I’m afraid she’s not available right now, sir. She’s in the ICU. May I take a message?’

ICU? I rack my brains. Is that—‘You don’t mean intensive care?’ I ask. My heart is now hammering. No no no. Why the fuck would she be in intensive care? Has she had an accident?

‘I do, sir. But I can take a message.’

‘Why the—what’s wrong with her?! Is she okay?’ Oh my God oh my God oh my God.

‘I’m afraid I can’t share any client information, sir. But I’ll have Ms Winters call you back just as soon as she can, unless you’d like me to take a message?’

I look up from my phone. This room feels alien, as if I don’t even recognise it. ‘Hang on. I don’t—who is this? And where the hell are you?’

If she thinks I’m insane, she doesn’t say so. ‘My name is Norma, sir. I’m one of the duty nurses in the Paediatric Cardiac Intensive Care Unit here at Duke Children’s Hospital, North Carolina.’

Paediatric.

Duke Children’s Hospital.

My head is spinning. I can’t—does that mean Marlowe’s not in the ICU herself? Why the fuck would she be in a children’s hospital in North Carolina?

There’s only one reason that I can think of. Only one reason she would have lied to me to get this time off.

Marlowe has a child, and that child is ill, and my assistant is not on jury duty as I thought but instead holding some kind of bedside vigil in intensive fucking care in North fucking Carolina, and I can barely breathe, I can barely function as my overwrought brain attempts to absorb and compile and process this information. I do the first thing I can think of and pull up Athena’s number.

She answers after a couple of rings. ‘Brendan.’

‘Does Marlowe have a kid?’ I blurt out.

She lets out a long, defeated sigh. ‘Yeah. My goddaughter, Tabby.’

‘Tabby.’ I whisper the name to myself, wondering why it sounds familiar. ‘And she’s ill?’ Pressure is building in my sinuses, and I pinch the bridge of my nose.

‘She is. She was. But⁠—’

‘Why the fuck are they in North Carolina?’

She sighs again, even longer and harder. ‘Tabs needed an operation to save her life. Duke is the best place on the planet to do it. Look, have you spoken to Marlowe, or…?’

Save her life save her life save her life.